


Wasting Daylight

by ArtemisDiana



Category: Doctor Who, Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 18:03:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3578793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisDiana/pseuds/ArtemisDiana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's pretty sure she wasn't supposed to end up here, but she knows that this is where she's supposed to be, even if she doesn't know why...</p><p>He doesn't like hitchhikers on principal, but something about this one is different...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wasting Daylight

     ‘ _He doesn’t quite know what to do with himself yet, listless and wandering on the long black road to oblivion, without Sam or John to act as his anchor points in the dark. The Impala’s all he has right now, his cold comfort in lonely motel rooms and leaving yet another message for an answering machine that never gets checked. He’s never really been alone like this before._

 _  
_She sticks her thumb out as she walks and she waits, hoping that someone, anyone, will be kind enough to give her a lift. She doesn’t know how long she’s been stuck here, this dimension that destroys everything she tries to build, that’s barely letting her Tardis coral grow, where nothing makes sense and the aliens aren’t even real aliens, but demons and ghosts and nothing she’s ever dealt with on her own before. What she wouldn’t give for a sonic screwdriver and a Doctor right about now.

_He doesn’t pick up hitchhikers as a rule, too many of them can be spirits and that’s an excellent way to wind up dead yourself. This girl, though, strikes something in him, and before he’s even really made the decision, he’s pulling over, the Impala grumbling to a stop in front of her. He climbs out slowly, careful to keep an eye on her other hand, tucked into her sweatshirt pocket as it is. Last thing he needs is a gunshot wound on top of everything._

_'How far are you looking to go?'_

_‘_ As far as you’ll take me, since I don’t really have a destination in mind, other then anywhere but here. Crossroads give me an itchy feeling.’

_He looks at her sharply, and she meets his gaze, not dropping her eyes. She doesn’t look anything like a hunter to him, used to Bobby and Rufus and the rest of the rough and ready crowd that he was familiar with. She all but screams civilian, but her eyes tell another story entirely._

_'Come on, then. We're wasting daylight.'_

* * *

_'Dean… Dean, I have to go. The stars are going out, and I need to find him before we lose everything and everyone. We've talked about this, you know that…'_

_  
_He stares at her steadily, hands clenched into fists in his pockets as she packs the last of her things. The last of their things. He knows he won’t see her again, she’s told him enough stories to gather that she never hits the same world twice.

     He’d thought that he’d had a chance. She hadn’t left after he’d fixed up her half of the Dimension Cannon, had stayed for weeks into months into two years after it was working again.

_'Dean, I have to do this.'_

     'I know.'

_She holds her bag tightly, and she watches him, tall and strong and beautiful and everything she never wanted to fall for. Yet here she was, years overdue for going back, everything about her aching to stay with this man._

_If she didn’t leave now, she’s not sure she ever could._

_She tips her head back, closing her eyes tightly so that she won’t have to see the pain on his face as she jumps, and she prays, for the first time in a long time._

_  
_He’s bitter, after she leaves, and he doesn’t care. Just one more person to leave him behind in a long string of everyone he’s ever cared about. He should have expected it, really. Nothing ever comes easy to Dean Winchester.

     He keeps her ring in the glovebox of the Impala anyways, no matter how painful looking at it is. Just in case.

* * *

 

     

     He can’t really even believe that she’s here, that she’s not just a fragment of his imagination, slicing and carving away at what’s left of his heart. He had dreamed of her endlessly, the six years she’s been gone, saving another world, all the worlds. Even in hell, he’d clung to her memory, clutching her tight within what was left of his battered soul, hoping in vain that she’d somehow know, somehow come back to him, get him out of there. He’d almost been disappointed when the blinding light had been Castiel instead, though that wasn’t fair to the angel.

      But now… Now she was back, within his reach, and he wasn’t ever going to let her go again.

_'Sorry I was so late, Dean…. I had to wait for the coral to finish growing before I could come back.'_

     'I'm just glad you're here at all.'

     His voice is gruff, not quite meeting her eyes as they stand in front of Sam and Kevin, but his hands are warm around hers, still so delicate yet strong in his grasp.

_She loses time as they say their vows, sure that they’ve been spoken but not quite firm on what actually was said, too lost in the heated gaze from the man in front of her. She doesn’t tell him that it’s been almost sixty years for her, nearly a decade for every year of his life that she’s missed. She doesn’t tell him that she watched her Doctor live, love, grow old, pass away while she remained frozen in time. All she wants is to be happy with this man with so much love in his heart._

     He knows she’s laughing at him as he struggles to get out of his damn monkey suit from the dinner he’d taken her to, every button catching, every knot pulling tighter instead of loose, until finally he just yanks the shirt open. He can hear buttons go flying as it finally slides down his arms, and Rose really is laughing at him now, bare to the waist as her dress slips free of her shoulders. She’s even more beautiful then he remembered, all creamy skin and pink flush sweeping across her cheeks and down her chest, smooth swell of her breasts and hips heating up the room until he feels like he’s in a sauna.

_She pushes the dress the rest of the way down with a soft shiver, padding across the room until she can pull Dean close, carefully opening his fly and slipping a hand inside. Sam had promised not to be back for at least 24 hours, and she was going to take full advantage of the time gifted to them._

     When Dean wakes the next morning, he’s struck by how perfectly Rose still fits in his arms, even after all that they’ve both been through. He nuzzles into her hair, kissing her ear softly before climbing out to go get the coffee started, and see about breakfast in bed for his new wife.

     He’s two cups into the pot when a twinge in his peripheral vision raises the hair on the back of his neck, and he quietly palms a knife from the counter before turning slowly. There’s a blue box sitting in an unused corner of the living room, years old spray paint all down one side, but when he tries to get a closer look, he can’t quite focus on it.

     What the hell?


End file.
